Chapter 9
I take a sip of the espresso, brewed fresh from my Nuova Simonelli machine. A luxury that cost several thousand dollars, but worth every penny. It had made regular coffee forever taste like horse piss to me. And don’t even get me started on the swill they served in prison — that stuff was black bile that oozed out of the dented silver coffee urns, pretending to be coffee but fooling none but the most uncultured prison denizens.
This espresso though — I take another sip and savor the dark, rich flavor. Perfection.
I take the cup into my office, striding naked through the penthouse. The sweet luxury of being back in my own home still hasn’t worn off, and I’ve been soaking up every minute of my freedom and of the creature comforts I once took for granted.
There is one creature comfort I have yet to enjoy of course — my sweet Lily.
The fact that I haven’t yet taken her virginity — that I haven’t plowed my dick into her tight pussy — is a fact that astonishes me more than anyone. Not that I haven’t enjoyed the time I’ve spent with her — in fact, I’ve enjoyed it more than I ever expected to. Who would have thought I would actually enjoy spending time with a twenty-one-year-old pastry school student? It shouldn’t be true, but it is — I like her.
I don’t know what shocks me more, that I like her, or that I haven’t fucked her.
But there’s another reason I’ve been holding back on taking her sweet cherry.
When I first conceived this plan, I had one thing in mind: making her father suffer.
Only this week. I had realized something important. Exacting my revenge this way would be beyond sweet — it would make Richard miserable to know that I was fucking his sweet innocent daughter.
But how would it make Lily feel?
She had given me something to focus on while I was prison. Like an addict chasing the dragon, my mind had chased Lily, getting high on her sweetness, on the thought that there would be something — someone — waiting for me when I got out of prison. But now the reality of her is in front of me and it’s sweeter and more luscious than anything I’d imagined.
There’s the way her laugh had echoed through my penthouse the other day, as clear as a church bell. There’s the way she looks up at me sometimes, through lowered lashes, her green eyes sparkling and playful. There’s the way her body feels nestled against mine, her soft curves fitting perfectly against my hard angles. And of the course there’s the way she trembles under my touch, the way her body begs me to take her, the way her sweet pink pussy glistens with desire for something only I can give her.
This is ridiculous. I’m swooning over her like a fucking teenager. I let my espresso cup clatter onto the desk and I crack open my laptop, flipping through to Facebook and finding Lily’s profile again. As soon as I see her face, my chest loosens.
She’s got a new profile picture up — instead of the picture with her girlfriend at the club, in this photo she’s curled up on a sofa reading a book. She’s got on a sundress, pale yellow, and her long red hair is hanging down in her face. She looks enrapt in her book, unaware that she’s even being photographed.
Without even realizing I’m doing it, I reach out and run my finger along the glossy screen of my laptop. I trace the curve of her body, the long lines of her legs. My cock is already starting to stir, just looking at her, and I wish that I could be there with her right now, watching her read, pushing her hair back off her face and kissing her creamy pale throat. To be the one taking the photo and capturing one last peaceful moment before I rip her clothes off.
Of course, that only makes me wonder who actually did take the picture. Her father? Friend? A boyfriend?
I know she’s still a virgin but I never asked about guys she’s had in her life. I’ll claim her body — but has anyone claimed her heart?
My brow furrows as I stare at that picture. There’s a nagging ache in my stomach. It’s a feeling I don’t quite recognize, and one that I don’t welcome. I swivel back and forth in my chair, staring hard at her picture and trying to understand why I feel like punching someone and then crawling into bed for a week.
—
In the morning I call Rey, my caretaker. We haven’t actually spoken since I’ve been out and it feels good to hear his voice again.
“Mr. Bradley!” he says. There’s genuine pleasure in his voice. “So good to have you back. Was everything satisfactory at the penthouse?”
“Yes, it was, thank you. And please thank Agata for the muffins.”
“Ah, you liked them?”
“Very much.” I had actually eaten them all the first day I was out, that’s how much I missed Agata’s cooking.
“What can I do for you today?” he asks.
“The cabin,” I say. “If I wanted to go up there this weekend, do you think you could have it ready?” In addition to the Manhattan penthouse, I also owned a cabin on a lake in the Catskills. It was the perfect place to go to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. The entire time I’d been in prison, I had dreamed about going back there and swimming in the crystal-clear lake.
Lately I’d been craving it even more. I had counted down the days to my release, but now that I was out, Manhattan seemed more crowded than ever. I couldn’t even step outside without being bombarded by bodies — rushing and pushing and trying to convince everyone how busy and important they are. The irony is I used to be that person. Nothing but business — I thrived on the frenetic pace, the cut-throat attitude, the charge that came from merciless pursuing a prize.
Now the only prize I wanted was Lily. And everyone else in Manhattan could go fuck themselves.
“Yes, of course,” Rey is saying. “Everything’s just as you left it. You want us to stock the fridge?”
“Sure. Oh, and can you ask Agata—”
Rey cuts me off, chuckling. “The cake.”
“The cake.” I grin. Agata made a famous chocolate olive oil cake that was to die for, and I knew a certain redhead who was going to get to sample it this weekend. Given her love of desserts, I had a feeling she’d love it.
“She’ll be thrilled to do it,” Rey says. “Leave everything to us, boss. You want to head up Friday?”
“That would be great. Thanks, Rey.”
I hang up the phone and lean back in my chair. This weekend I would finally claim Lily’s virginity, and I couldn’t wait. The feeling spreading through my chest now is one I’m much more familiar with — satisfaction. Triumph.
Winning.